


Persistence

by orphan_account



Series: Not So Old [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Childhood Memories, Especially Tony, Everyone Needs A Hug, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Howard Stark's Bad Parenting, Human Jarvis (Iron Man movies), Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, M/M, Snarky Jarvis, Tony Has Issues, Tony Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Has Daddy Issues, Tony Stark Still Has Arc Reactor, Underage Drinking, because he is a goofball, little Steve, steve doesn't know how to give up
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-15
Updated: 2015-08-11
Packaged: 2018-04-04 14:31:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4141359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony had to meet Steve exactly four times to finally give him a date on the fifth, and kiss him on the sixth. Steve just didn't take no for an answer.</p><p>Or,</p><p>In which Steve rogers can make mountains crumble with his patience and Tony Stark is a strawberry filled cream puff that needs a hug.</p><p>Inspired by this comic on tumblr by the amazing apitnobaka http://apitnobaka.tumblr.com/post/120611673692/so-i-just-read-this-manga-called-dare-ga-omae-wo</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Tony was fourteen and very pissed off when he first met Steven Grant Rogers. Given, being a traditional Stark man, he was always on full-on pissed off mode, being the heavily sarcastic, charismatic, sassy playboy douchebag he was, but not today, no. It was different today. Howard had gone and done it, he fucking had, and he was shipping Tony off to MIT now! And Tony wouldn’t have sulked, really, because there was no one in his high school worth his time except that blond chick in the class opposite his because she had a killer ass, and definitely no one to satisfy him in his deeply intellectual needs, but knowing that Howard had taken from him the opportunity to earn the right to go himself was tugging heavily at his chest.

Because he could have, really, Tony could very well have.

He had earned nothing for himself in all his years, except all the stupid fucking trophies he got from all sorts of competitions he would rather not waste time on, but there was always that freaking angelic choir singing in his head to satisfy Howard and oh wouldn’t trophies make it easier and why wouldn’t Tony try them out.

One thing Tony knew about himself that his head was no place for angels. 

Whatever that instinct was, it was wrong anyway. His trophies wouldn’t make Howard any prouder, or any more satisfied than he already was with his multi-billionaire life and problematic son, or any less short-tempered than he was when dealing with him. In fact, Tony had come to this conclusion after his fourth award, that it only got worse, that the more he showed Howard what he was capable of, the more expectations he exceeded and the more records he broke, the more Howard would lash out at him and yell and generally be an ass that could talk but preferred to do it only about how problematic a kid he was and oh how much it would be better if Tony wasn’t around.

Something was telling Tony that Howard cared, he really did, and that he was just not exactly a cream puff stuffed with strawberry filling, but hey, that was mostly what Jarvis would tell him when he was a kid to stop him from getting all depressed and turning into an emo, so fuck that.

Howard was a dick, oh yes he was, and Tony was sure that he had never gotten an A+ in any of his parenting 101 exams.

But taking away his opportunity to finally do something for himself and not for Howard’s shadow was just the mother of all motherfucking bitch moves, even for Howard. 

And Tony, being the perfect little fourteen year old highschooler in a motherfucking boarding school was doing exactly what would be expected of him to get rid of all the confusion and the anger: drinking and partying his ass off in the dorm rooms that were thankfully big enough because hey it was a private school and very expensive too.

He had two motherfucking weeks left, and if he was going to hell afterwards, he was certainly enjoying the ride, oh yes.

And what the actual fuck was a fucking six year old doing in all the mess of alcohol and smoke and sex and other unmentionable things to purity and all that was good?

No, maybe Tony wasn’t an appropriate role model for chubby six year olds waddling around in their fancy sailor uniforms, but he wasn’t going to have a kid at a party that was the very representation of hell in the mortal world. What did he do? Simple. He imitated the only parental figure he had known and hoped that it would work.

“What the fucking fuck do you think you are doing here, you little shit?”

And the expression on the kid’s face was just terrified. He gulped down and tried to stop the tears threatening to well up in his cerulean eyes, Tony could see that the kid was trying, but he really wouldn’t blame him if he cried.

It had always worked on Tony.

He started coughing, and god, oh god, if that didn’t scare Tony. His small, unhealthily thin body shook with each violent cough, and Tony thought he might actually collapse, but he was drunk, and fourteen, and he ended up as the one on his ass when he tried to stabilize the kid.

That was exactly when another kid that was healthier and taller and possibly a bit older than the blond one appeared, and gripped the poor kid’s frame with practiced ease and a steady but worried gaze. 

Tony released a sigh he hadn’t known he had been holding when the kid finally stopped.

“No need to be a douche.” The brunet one said, giving him a steely gaze, and Tony was sure as fuck in that moment that this was a time even his grandsons would end up hearing about.

Because look at that kid. Look at that kindergarten student standing up for his friend and giving him the harshest treatment possible, with his arms crossed over his chest and seriously scary as fuck eyes staring right at him.

Tony wished he could have a friend like that.

“Who are you two?” he asked, as calmly as he could manage with his constantly shifting and turning vision and the drums beating in his ears and the drunkenness.

“Steven Grant Rogers.” The blond one said on cue, like he was already waiting for him to ask. Normally, when some unfortunate soul actually made the grave mistake of asking Tony his name and risking their sanity in the process, Tony would just say “Hi I’m Tony”, not “hi I’m Anthony Edward Stark.”

Tony thought the name was familiar, but meh, whatever, he was too drunk.

And apparently he was making a very good point, because the other kid nudged Steven and whispered something in his ear, turning to him and saying “Just Steve.” 

Steve tried to protest, starting with a whiny “Buckyyy…” but his charm didn’t work on his smarter friend.

And Tony, being the drunken little mess he was, remembered that he was supposed to get them out of there exactly at that moment. 

“Which dorm are you in, Steve?”

“The Bees.” 

“And you?”

“Parrots.”

“Okay. Okay. Okay.”

He was saying that mainly to himself, trying to come to the realization that yes, he indeed was leaving an awesome party that he could very well get expelled for hosting in order to get two idiotic kids back to their dorms, and no, he didn’t seem to regret making that decision yet.

He dropped Bucky off at his dorm, and Bucky insisted that he wanted to go with Steve, but Tony Stark wasn’t about to get outsmarted by a kid so he called the security and disappeared just in time to avoid them.

Who said memorizing the campus’ map wouldn’t help?

And boom, they had just dropped Bucky off and Steve had one of those fits again. Tony was scared out of his wits, but thankfully a little bit more sober, so he actually reached for Steve’s back to rub circles on it and soothe the poor kid. This one was a bit more violent, and Tony wasn’t taking any chances with Steve, so he ended up carrying the kid all the way to his dorm, and for the life of him he didn’t know what was wrong with his head today.

He was about to drop him off when Steve tugged on his t-shirt, gave him a toothy grin, and yanked him inside.

Tony was halfway into a very entertaining “how to swear for beginners” course when Steve gave him that smiley, chubby-cheeked face and said,

“Bucky always sneaks out at night to help me sleep but he isn’t here today…”

Figured. That was probably why that kid was so used to handling Steve’s fits.

“Stay?” 

Now, believe it when Tony said it, a Stark was mainly composed of three things. One was of course brains, because they were badass motherfucking geniuses, another was douche, because they were douchebags that didn’t care about anyone else and they did it with style, but the most important was the power to stubbornly refuse everything no matter what it was because fuck it if Tony says something is right that’s final.

But Tony didn’t refuse.

He stayed there the whole night and made sure the kid got some sleep. He tiptoed out when the sun began to rise and got some coffee early because Rob was a badass motherfucker with a coffee machine and he was Tony’s bitch, so he could.

He didn’t feel like attending classes and stayed at his dorm room to work on his stuff, which was mostly waking up every half hour, taking a swig of anything he could get his hands on and going back to sleep.

Night came, and Tony was tired of throwing parties in dorm rooms and not being able to properly do his shit because of the little space, so he gave everyone a call to let them know that they were going to have it in the gym.

Yep, the gym where no six year old could ever reach.

He got some geek to supply him the equipment for a sound system, because he was too tired and grumpy to just invent one on the spot and make do with that. Rob and co were already taking care of the booze, and the ladies, oh the ladies, well it was enough if they just brought themselves. 

And Tony partied his _ass_ off. He came back to his dorm room and flopped down on his bed, only to realize that his hand was resting on something that definitely wasn’t his bed sheets. 

It was a tuft of blond hair.

He shot up right then, because what the fucking _fuck_ , holy fucking _shit_ , wasn’t that Steve?

Steve looked up and smiled at him and tugged Tony’s head down with his arms. Tony was way, way too shocked to mumble a few words of complaint. Steve had already closed his eyes against his neck and started sleeping, and Tony didn’t have the guts to wake him up. 

There went another night of sleep.

Now, Tony was indeed used to someone clinging to him while sleeping, because hello the chicks loved him, but not a little, scrawny six year old who would have his body shaken every five minutes because he coughed really hard. And what the actual fuck was Steve trying to accomplish? Why was he there? How did he even know Tony? 

Tony had no idea, and he had no intention to ask Steve.

He woke up in the morning and got up to leave just like the last time, knowing full well that Steve was very well capable of finding his way back if he had found his way inside. He protested against his judgment internally, but the protests died down as he started planning his next party, got a lecture for skipping class yesterday, and night came.

And Steve was there on his bed again when he was back. And again. And again, for a whole week, until Tony decided all together to fuck the parties for one day and ask Steve what in the name of sanity he was up to. 

When the kid woke up, he handed him a glass of strawberry smoothie that he had made (in a whole hour too so that was a new record) with some makeshift blender sort of thing he had whipped up that night. Steve smiled again, and oh god, was the shine in his eyes even human? Tony was pretty sure that color hadn’t been invented to be an iris. 

“Steve can I ask you a question?” he asked as he took a sip of his coffee, trying to sound gentle, because his attempts to communicate could scare grown-ups sometimes, and the last time with Steve hadn’t gone so well. Steve nodded like obedient little bag of germs he was, and Tony smiled, he really did, he smiled like an idiot at Steve and looked down at his hands, because holy god what was he even thinking.

“Why do you keep coming to my room?”

Steve didn’t even think before answering.

“Because we’re friends.”

Tony didn’t want to say anything to the kid, no, not really, but being Tony Stark’s friend would take a lot out of a person, and Steve, little and innocent and blue-eyed lil’ Stevie-pooh was way too young to know that.

“No we’re not, Steve.”

Steve puffed out his cheeks, and Tony was weirdly convinced that the only place Steve actually had a little bit of fat was indeed his cheeks.

“But we are! See, my grandpa knew your Daddy, and they fought together! That makes us friends!”

Steve continued to insist adamantly that they were friends and babbled on with his weird nonsense while Tony looked at his eyes, trying to figure out who this friend of Howard’s could be. He didn’t know any of his dad’s friends except Obie, and Obie wasn’t even married, and shoot him but Tony was pretty sure that Howard wasn’t a social butterfly fluttering around and giggling and making friends. 

“What did you say your name was?”

“Steven Grant Rogers.”

Tony’s brain took a while to process that sentence and-

 _Click_. 

“Holy- you- you’re Captain America’s fucking- what in the name of-“

Steve giggled and slapped Tony’s shoulder playfully.

“Yep!”

And Tony- was Tony even alive at that point?

“Tony?”

Steve grasped his t-shirt in his chubby fists and tried to shake to the best of his ability, but Tony was too far-gone, because what the actual fuck?

“You’re aunt Peggy’s and his- oh my god.”

“My grandma tells me stories about you aaaall the time.” Steve said, continuing because obviously he couldn’t see that Tony’s soul was off to a merry sight seeing in la-la land.

“She says that you’re awesome and she wants me to meet you.”

Tony gulped down whatever that lump in his throat was, because yes this shit was going down, and yes he had just met Captain Fucking America’s and Aunt Peggy’s grandson and whoop dee fucking doo was he every little bit of the little pile of adorableness Aunt Peggy had promised.

After Captain America had gone and crashed his plane into the ice and left Aunt Peggy pregnant with his kid, good ol’ Auntie Carter had somehow found a probably very insane way to stay friends with Howard, and stayed a part of their perfect little family. Tony hadn’t seen her in over a year, but with Maria Stark and her social events and drinking combined with Howard’s talents in being a dick to his son, Aunt Peggy had been the one thing except Jarvis that Tony had ever seen as a parental figure.

And then there was Captain America, and fuck Tony if he didn’t like and hate the guy’s guts at the same time. With Howard’s obsession about him and all the examples of the perfect Cap he had had while growing up, it was a little hard to not admire the guy. But Tony knew that he was never going to be the perfect son Howard had wanted, he was never going to be anything even remotely similar to what Captain America had been and what he had represented. He knew that the one thing except money and personal success that made Howard happy would always be Captain America, not him, not his achievements or his existence but Cap’s memory and legacy. He knew that Howard would always look at him and regret his inability to create something to bring Cap back, look at his one failed creation and think why he had gotten this pile of nonsense instead of that, and that he would revert his eyes every time. He knew that Cap would always be the only thing in Howard’s heart. 

So Tony looked at Steve, the kid that looked so much like his legendary grandfather with his blue eyes and blond hair and determined expression and suddenly came to realize why he had never met the kid before, because Aunt Peggy had known, she had known that Tony couldn’t and wouldn’t take it that gently.

“Steve. Get up, leave, and never come back.” Tony threw his mug of coffee at a nearby wall when Steve didn’t get up and made his point clear before storming off. He climbed a nearby tree after getting his hands on a few of his tools and his plans for a little robot. He got a call from Howard towards the evening saying that Aunt Peggy’s grandson had just enrolled in the school two weeks ago and he should give the kid a hello. 

And Howard would never call Tony. Not after he had gotten kidnapped and returned with a broken arm, not after he had made Dum-y and won that award. Tony was lucky if Howard saw him at home and gave him and his projects a little more than a glance, and now here he was, calling him and making time in his schedule for a full ten minutes to tell him about the kid and how he was supposed to be treated. 

Why wasn’t it him? Why wasn’t it him for once that was the only thing in Howard’s eyes?

He didn’t go back to his room for the next week at all, because he was oddly sure that Steve would be there, sitting on his bed and smiling like a damn idiot and just being Steve while waiting for him.

It was his last day, and Tony finally went back to his room to get his things and put them in a bag, because adios bitchachos he wasn’t coming back. He didn’t have anyone to say goodbye to, no friends that actually knew him or a teacher that could stand him for more than five minutes, so it was fairly easy to get to the gates. Jarvis was already waiting for him there, next to the car, and just as Tony expected with no Howard in the damn thing. He walked past the gates and was about to grumble to Jarvis about how shitty these two weeks had been and how shitty it was about to get, he heard a wheezy coughing sound a few feet away from where he was standing. Tony gulped, he legit did it, because he knew that as soon as he turned around he would find Steve there, with his stupid little grin and chubby cheeks and blue eyes glimmering. 

Tony Stark was actually afraid of a six year old, and it was ridiculous.

Deep down he knew that taking his frustrations and inner problems out on some poor kid, especially a kid that was Aunt Peggy’s grandson, wasn’t all that nice even for him, but Tony just couldn’t turn around and look at Steve’s face and pretend he didn’t have Captain America’s blood flowing through his veins. He couldn’t act like the very thing that could satisfy Howard, the very thing he had been striving to do for so long, hadn’t been given to this kid so easily, he couldn’t just turn around and know that his genes had granted Steve the legacy of Captain America while his own had granted him a throne to sit on littered with corpses and reeking of alcohol and blood. He couldn’t just look at Steve and not think that he was perfect, in every way possible, and it was so easy and natural and fitting for him. Tony just couldn’t admit defeat.

But then there was that other thing, the thing in his head that told him what Captain America was to him, he must be for Steve, with all the stories Aunt Peggy had told the kid and the articles and how they had motivated him enough for him to sneak out of his dorm for a visit. He imagined meeting Captain America and shaking hands with him, he imagined being able to speak to him like a normal human and not just a role model that had been forced on him. He imagined telling Captain America about how special he was to Howard and he imagined him laughing and telling Howard off, he imagined the guy being genuinely interested in him and just the chance to meet him, and Tony knew, no matter how much he wanted to deny and hide it, that he had had many fantasies about how it would go, different scenarios and movies that used to play in his head non stop. He knew how important and special it was, and he knew how heartbreaking it was to get all the precious things in his childish, heavenly imagination stolen with one sentence. He knew that he still had a Captain America figure somewhere really deep in one of his tool boxes, a figure he kept in original casing and looked at when he was in doubt or discomfort,

He knew that he had never gotten over it, and that he never would, and that he didn’t want the same thing for Steve, no matter whose grandson he was.

So Tony turned around, taking a deep breath and trying to relax while instinctively tightening his hold on his toolbox that was still in his hand.

And there Steve stood, with Bucky at his back throwing Tony dangerous glares, huffing and puffing and trying to catch his breath while he tried to hold on to the flowers in his hand. He had put them inside a makeshift cone that he had made out of paper and the paint still hadn’t dried, leaving a mark on Steve’s hand, but the red of the paper was perfect against the white of the daisies in it. Steve looked at him after his coughing fit had finished and Bucky was just grasping his shoulder, and he gave Tony that frustratingly innocent smile, and Tony was sure that his palm would be bruised tomorrow because of how hard he was clenching it.

“I love you, Tony, marry me!” Steve shouted, and that was as far as Tony could take it. A few chuckles escaped first, and then turned into full-blown laughter, because holy god Steve, was Steve even for real? And Tony looked at him with a smile in his eyes, taking in the determined expression on his face once again, and finding an escape from his own world.

“Maybe I’ll consider it once you’re taller than me or something, huh Steve?”

And Steve nodded determinedly, gave Tony a hug, and before Tony could actually react to it, ran off laughing and throwing flowers in the air while Bucky chased after him, being the worried momma hen he was.

Tony didn’t miss the expression on Jarvis’ face, he absolutely didn’t.

“You wanna laugh at me Jarvis? 

“No Master Tony, not at all.”

But the half suppressed sniggers escaped, and Tony didn’t even say anything, just silently smiling at himself like an idiot throughout the whole journey. In his head, he had just saved a kid’s dream world, and Tony didn’t even think it worth to mention that in two weeks time, Steve would forget about him and move on with his little childish kindergarten games and fluffy childhood. He would go and pay Aunt Peggy a visit before getting shipped to MIT, and those visits would be the only thing tying him to Steve, only the photos and the lighthearted chats they’d have about how lil’ Stevie was doing. Steve probably wouldn’t even remember that he had met Tony Stark by the time he turned twelve, and there would be no responsibility of being a child’s obsession waiting for Tony, because Steve wouldn’t even know him, let alone actually take that sentence to the heart. Steve wouldn’t take it seriously.

Right?


	2. Chapter 2

Steve had never really been a particularly strong kid, his asthma hadn’t let him, so he wasn’t all that surprised when the school’s basketball team didn’t accept him. He wasn’t even good at playing the darn game, let alone actually play for over five minutes without getting hit by darn asthma, but he really, really had to be on that team! Basketball made people taller, that was what the Internet had said.

 

So Steve did the only thing expected of an eight year old that wasn’t getting what he wanted: he told his grandma about it. All it took was one visit by his grandma, and boom, he was on the team! (Had grandma held a gun to the principal’s head or something, what the fuck?) Which was fantastic, by the way, because Steve wasn’t an idiot, and he knew that unless he did some serious sports, he was never going to be as strong or tall as the other kids.

 

And that wouldn’t do, it definitely wouldn’t.

 

Surprisingly, basketball actually did help Steve throughout the years. It gave him a sense of strategy and ideas of shortcuts to many moves and an understanding of speed, and not to mention the wonders it did to his airways and reducing his asthma. By sixteen, he was actually healthy enough to go into bodybuilding and wrestling. He hadn’t grown tall enough, Steve knew that he hadn’t, although Tony was perfect in every way, don’t get him wrong, but not doing extraordinarily well in the height department, Steve still wasn’t taller than him. He knew that the growth spurt wasn’t doing actual wonders in that area for him, and he was still looking pretty unhealthy with the little amount of muscle he had, so he decided to earn a little bit of that on the way. He had expected to get really beaten up and return home really sore, but it didn’t happen, as if his muscles had a natural affinity for it and had been waiting forever to be used. That was a bit odd, considering how he hadn’t gotten to play in basketball matches until he was twelve and hadn’t done any real sports except that, nothing that really required muscle training except the insanely fast tempo of every basketball game ever, and even the fitness instructor had given him a look and sent him over to another instructor that trained the ladies.

 

That was pretty offending. Not that he was a sexist, he was Peggy Carter’s grandson and that had taught him to never underestimate a lady, but Steve was very sure that he could lift more than twenty pounds. That in itself was a wonder, because all Steve’s muscle mass summed up would probably be barely past that.

 

He couldn’t really say that he was complaining, but he was moving at an insane pace. He started the first week with twenty pounds and ended up adding fifty five on that, which he knew definitely was not recommended because beginners weren’t supposed to push themselves that much until later on when their muscles got used to it. But by the end of the first week, Steve could do ten sets of weight lifting non-stop with seventy-five pounds and actually not feel a thing. His asthma was long gone by the end of week three, and his clothes stopped fitting when he was at the end of the first month. He increased and increased and increased the intensity and the weights, but nothing seemed to faze him, until that one time when he really, really pushed himself too hard. He actually felt something inside his arm snap, not a bone or anything but definitely something important, because his arm fell limp, and he felt intense pain for about five minutes. The instructor panicked a lot and called an ambulance, so he guessed it was pretty serious and internally got ready for a scolding from grandma, but in five minutes he could actually feel his arm again, like it had just popped back, and he did a few swinging exercises to see if it was okay.

 

It was. Steve tried to do the same lifting again. He had no problem.

 

 He looked at an old photo he had taken with Bucky when he hadn’t started fitness yet, and he just took a few moments to realize that that had been him, and Steve just knew that something was weird. Some girl came and asked him out, while he was sitting with Bucky the Womanizer Barnes that no girl would ever avert eyes and look at him from, and that was it.

 

That was exactly when Steve decided that something was very wrong and told his grandma.

 

He was more than a little surprised when his grandma didn’t react to it at all, like she had been expecting it all along. She told him that she had been getting worried because the serum in his genes hadn’t kicked in for so long, and Steve got the talk of his life that day.

 

Because what the actual fuck. Why hadn’t someone told him about this before?

 

He actually didn’t speak to his grandma for about a week, which was very dangerous since grandma was a very impatient woman that punched people in the face when she didn’t like the things they were doing (thankfully she had never done that to Steve, oh god thank you), but his anger faded when he realized that it had probably been for his protection in the first place. People didn’t know that he was Captain America’s grandson, they weren’t supposed to, because that would be pretty dangerous for anyone. The only ones that Steve had ever told about that were Tony and Bucky; Tony had already known, and Bucky had a similar secret to keep about being the grandson of the Winter Soldier, so that didn’t really leave anyone.

 

His life got a lot easier after that. The serum kicking in managed to enhance all his abilities, including the mental ones, and Steve surely enjoyed the attention he got from both genders. He continued his intense workout routine, because he actually did enjoy it, but he got a little bored of it sometime around when he turned eighteen and jumped to kickboxing instead. His enhanced intellect did wonders in getting him to MIT, because that was the school Tony had graduated from and if he could go there, he would. He was nowhere near as smart as Tony though, because that probably wasn’t even possible for anyone on the planet, so he didn’t take the chance of doing engineering at all. He applied for graphic designing, since he was pretty good with art, having spent something like an eternity watching basketball games and the human body and how the body changed positions with different ways muscles were flexed, having nothing to do but watching the game from the side and making little sketches in the insanely short time it got a player to move from one position to another. That also granted Steve a pretty good visual memory, which came in pretty useful in the future.

 

The thing he had for Tony, whatever it was (because sometimes Steve wasn’t sure if it was love, admiration, or actual obsession; maybe a blend of all) never stopped throughout the years. Whenever he saw him on the cover of a magazine or in the newspaper, or he was actually on the news for some brilliant thing he did (because everything about Tony was brilliant) he would get this weird feeling in his chest where it would just sink and sink inside and lift up the corners of his lips. Because _fuck yeah_ , that was _his_ Tony, and he was going to go and get him.

 

Bucky always got his mood down by telling him that Tony had just tried not to break his heart that day, and that he hadn’t really meant it, but Steve just didn’t believe him. Tony was probably the most serious person on the planet, and he would never make a joke about that. No.

 

So he waited a little bit until he went and found Tony, until he got his acceptance letter from MIT and went to an actual hospital, (yes, that was how serious he got about this shit) to get his height checked.

 

He indeed was taller than Anthony Edward Stark, and Steve took that as his cue.

 

He made an appointment with Tony two weeks prior, and was clever enough to let them have grandma’s name because he knew that he would never be given one if he used his own.

 

And Steve took a deep breath as he walked in Tony’s office.

 

When he went inside Tony had a glass of scotch in one had and a pen in the other, the back of his chair turned to him as he was staring out of the window. He was quickly scribbling down some numbers (which HAD to be something awesome like a code or something for some weird robot because this was Tony Fucking Stark oh my god). Tony didn’t even bother to look at his face.

 

And excitement was just the severest understatement of the year, because this was it, this was the moment, this shit was going down and it was going down now and this was Tony Stark and Steve was seeing him finally and oh my god.

 

“Whoever you are, be quick. I know that Peggy Carter would never make an appointment, you’re lucky that I’m meeting you.”

 

That was actually true, Steve realized, grandma was just not the type. She would probably make herself welcome.

 

“It’s me, Tony.”

 

“Who the fuck are you?”

 

“Steve.”

 

And Tony turned around.

* * *

 

Tony was having the shittiest of weeks. Rhodey wasn’t talking to him, because apparently the best man at a wedding wasn’t supposed to lose the rings (in his own defense, he had never been anyone’s best man before, and he had gotten them new rings just in time to save the day), and Pepper had decided to take the week off to relax a bit after having to drive 500 miles to make it and get him the rings.

 

Tony never should have let her take the week off.

 

He was a miserable mess of alcohol and caffeine, and the replacement assistant Pepper had left him probably wasn’t familiar with the concept of an americano not being a latte. It was frustrating Tony to no end, and there were no parties this week to attend, and Tony didn’t even have a list of his contacts that he could use to throw his own. Pepper was the one that did all that. There were exactly three shitty board meetings that week, which definitely wasn’t normal, but he didn’t even know why because he was so distracted.

 

Jarvis had died. Tony had gotten news exactly 27 hours after it had happened, and he had given the hospital crew fucking hell for that, oh he had. Because how dare they- how could they- ugh. There was this really wide and huge and deep pit in his chest that made him really confused about everything because nothing was supposed to be absolutely empty in math except zero, and zero would mean something not existing, and Tony was pretty sure that he, in fact, was in existence, thank you very much. If something couldn’t be explained by math, it would probably be something stupid like people, and Tony had no time to waste with something that he couldn’t understand in less than ten seconds and master in a day, like he had done with everything up to this date. Except then there it was, that feeling of emptiness, which didn’t and probably never would make any sort of scientific sense, and it was just so _frustrating_.

 

Ugh. Tony knew what he would do. He would give Jarvis a call and listen to a few snarky comments and he would be all-

 

 

This sat heavily in his head, because Tony Stark, Tony motherfucking Stark, he had realized, was nothing without these three people in his life. It had been ages since he had been down to the workshop or actually done something useful except sit at a board meeting and not listen (and doing America a favor by not listening) and sign papers. Tony was bored. Tony was empty. And Tony didn’t even know how to fix that.

 

Fixing and making was the best thing he could do, because he was an engineer, a creator of wonders and owner of magical hands and an incredible brain. He was born to make and figure out and build and rebuild and fix and make better. That was what he was.

 

And it was frustrating, because Tony could think of nothing to build that would make the emptiness and the confusion disappear, and that made Tony angry.

 

That was the border of how much Tony could understand feelings. He knew that he was frustrated, a little bit confused, and definitely a little bit angry, but he had no idea about the weird emptiness.

 

What did people usually do to fill that emptiness? Talk, he decided, mostly talk. And think. And be snarky and funny and efficient ~~like~~ ~~Jarvis and Pepper and Rhodey and Aunt Peggy,~~ and help and just be there all the time.

 

Ooh, bingo! Why hadn’t he thought of that before?

 

That was when Tony got the awesome idea of creating an AI. It’s not like he hadn’t created one before, Dum-e and Butterfingers and You had all been AIs in their own right, but this one would be different. This one would be incredibly efficient ~~like Pepper~~ , talk and help ~~like Rhodey~~ and just- just ~~take care of him~~ handle him in everyway possible ~~like Jarvis.~~

In other words, Just A Rather Very Intelligent System!

 

~~Definitely not named after Jarvis.~~

He started working on the code immediately, but he didn’t have much time that day, because the spare assistant person (Tony was calling her that because he, for one thing, couldn’t bother to remember her name and didn’t like her that much, and for another thing she was ugly and Pepper had probably done that on purpose) had informed him that he had a meeting with Margaret Carter very early in the morning and caused Tony to laugh his ass off. Ha. Good old Auntie Carter, making an actual appointment? Was hell freezing over or something? Because Tony was sure as fuck that she would just sneak in without any security personnel noticing, or barge in really loudly and make herself welcome (if she was in the mood to play a bit) and pour herself a glass of his special whiskey while she checked her lipstick on that small mirror she always had in her bag. That was what she did every time.

 

Aunt Peggy was a badass, yes she was.

 

But what if it actually was her and Tony refused to meet her? He shivered.

 

So he invited the person in while scribbling down the things he thought were supposed to be in JARVIS’ code.

 

And he felt like someone had shot him in the head when it turned out to be Steve.

 

Because Steve-oh my god, it had been over twelve years since he had last seen Steve, and Steve definitely wasn’t lil Stevie-pooh anymore with those muscles, and holy god his biceps was thicker than Tony’s torso. Tony just took in the glorious sight that was Steve for as long as what seemed like an eternity.

 

Because holy fucking _shit_.

 

When he finally realized that yes, he knew how to talk, Steve was gripping his arm and pulling him to his feet, his scotch and pen and notebook all on the floor. Jesus fucking _Christ_ , had Steve just literally lifted him off his chair or what?

 

He was standing on his own two feet, and Steve made this weird gesture with his hand above his head, swinging it between Tony’s and his own. Tony didn’t get him at first until Steve whispered “height” like it was a taboo.

 

Ah, but of course. Height.

 

Holy motherfucking shit of Jesus actual Christ, had Steve taken that seriously?

 

For a few minutes, awkward minutes in which Steve rambled on getting accepted to MIT himself, Tony just sat there, shell shocked and confused. Had Steve really taken that seriously and waited twelve years, two thirds of his life, to get a date with him? Ridiculous, he thought, he could give Steve one right now because look at that yummy biceps. He shook his head; no, no, he wasn’t going to do that, he could find physique anywhere anytime, Jesus fuck Tony get your shit together.

 

He couldn’t.

 

He wanted to, horribly, because he just needed this serene atmosphere of comfort only Steve and memories of him had ever managed to grant, and suddenly the thought of maybe returning Steve’s affection in the future wasn’t so far away. Being honest to himself, he wanted someone, anyone that wasn’t sticking around for the money, for the advantages of knowing him and Steve…was right there, with his imagination and admiration for him, surrendering it all.

 

He looked at Steve, his eyes, his hair, his now well-defined face, and saw that little boy there, as small as he had been all those yeas ago. Innocent and sweet and just… free in a way. Steve’s life hadn’t even started yet. He didn’t know of so many things, hadn’t experienced so much of what was to come and he was just so _young…_ he wouldn’t ruin his life for him, as he had done for Pepper and Rhodey. Steve deserved better than him.

 

He gave Steve a smile, a genuine one, and buried all his thoughts of him, all his thoughts of his eyes somewhere really deep in his chest. He would keep them, for times when he regretted letting go of them.

 

“Can I take you out to dinner?”

 

And that probably the most ridiculous thing Steve could have said, because Tony was very convinced that it was supposed to be the other way round. He looked at Steve’s eyes, and he was oddly sure that the other man saw his answer in his eyes. Steve’s brow immediately furrowed an he clenched his fists, looking at Tony’s face, waiting for an answer, hoping for one, wishing for it to be what he wanted but Tony…as much as he wanted to, and as much as Steve did, Tony knew that Steve would regret it. He was still just a child, not even in his early twenties yet. He was a kid, that was what he was, a kid that wasn’t even allowed to drink fucking alcohol and… what would happen when he grew up and got bored of Tony? Or found something else, or decided that he had had enough?

 

Steve would regret ever being with him, Tony was sure.

 

Everyone that had had a form of a relationship with him that was a little more intimate than business had regretted ever getting to know him, making those decisions years ago that had landed them in this mess. He wouldn’t, couldn’t do this to Steve. Even if it meant hurting both of them.

 

But then again, that hope in Steve’s eyes…just melted Tony, and he knew that he couldn’t just break it, like his own hopes had been broken so many years ago, so brutally. He knew what it would do to a person, and Steve didn’t deserve it, no one did. He wouldn’t be the one to shatter hope and faith for Steve. He just couldn’t.

 

“Maybe when you do better than me in college, what do you say, Steve?”

 

Tony knew that he couldn’t, because he had graduated with the highest honor anyone could. At least in MIT, and he doubted Steve would try out different colleges just to impress him or get a date. Having a crush was one thing and building a life around someone else was another, Steve would grow out of it in college in the worst case.

 

His replacement PA informed him of a woman demanding to see him in the lobby, somehow terrorizing the employees with the way she looked at them. Tony smiled, because it was one of those days when Aunt Peggy wanted to have fun, apparently.

 

“That would be your grandmother.” He said to Steve, and watched as Steve immediately darted out of the room, mumbling apologies and frantically looking around. ~~He regretted not saying goodbye properly.~~

Aunt Peggy just casually threw the door open and walked in, smiling with that red lipstick of hers and opening her arms to give Tony a hug. Tony knew from the way she looked at him that she _knew,_ she just did, but neither said anything.

 

For the first time, he didn’t hear stories of Steve.

 

He didn’t know if he was glad or not.


End file.
